


Nights Alone with Her

by TabisMouse



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Frottage, Masturbation, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TabisMouse/pseuds/TabisMouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wolfgang can think only of her and sometimes naming her brings her to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nights Alone with Her

Night time was the hardest; night time was when he wanted her most. In the moonlit blue haze of his sparse room he could close his eyes and smell the food from the Indian place down the road and remember the impression of her lips against his.

He could feel the blood rushing under his skin, pulling his breath tight. He was hard. She always made him hard. He remembered the way her eyes widened when she saw him naked, they way she drank him in. He remembered her blush, shy, demure but hungry as he lay naked in her bed.

Stroking himself to her was the only thing that satisfied anymore. She was under his skin, in him.

He wanted her, needed her.

He gasped her name as he felt wetness along his forefinger, precome. It always felt too fast when it was her. He slowed his pace, dragging it out, rotating his hand over his head while imagining her slender fingers.

He lost himself in the smell of her skin and the memory of light on her face and in her eyes. _Real men are not poets_. In truth words frequently felt unnecessary but for her, with him like this, in this brief moment, poetry burned in his blood.

He tasted her name on his lips again, and again. He chanted his mantra in low rough groans.

"Yes?" Her voice was low, soft, a little confused.

He froze mid stroke and rolled over. Panties and camisole, he registered. She stretched. "Did-" she yawned, "did you call me?"

Her eyes were closed and there was a flush to her cheeks that spread deliciously down her neck to disappear below her top. Wolfgang bit his lip and tried to still his breath. A smile quirked her full lips. He wanted to devour her. He wanted to push her out of his bed. He wanted.

She groaned and his cock throbbed against his bare stomach. He clutched at the scrap of blanket between them.

"I was dreaming of you," she said, her eyes still closed but a full smile on her lips. They parted and her tongue traced her lip. He bit his fist, breaking skin. He could not respond. He couldn't dare.

She gasped a little moan. "It was a good dream, but not the kind a good girl has."

“Kala,” he said, moaning and his will broke. He held her, pressing himself flush against her. Her skin was silk and her lips heaven. She groaned and writhed against him.

"Wolfgang," his name a prayer on her lips. He could not do this, he did not deserve- her hips rolled against him and she sucked his lower lip into her mouth.

He growled and rolled them over, pinning her down, pressing his hips into hers, following the pace of her slow grind. The blanket slipped away and his cock slid along fabric, skin, wetness, her. "Fuck," he said.

She moaned his name into their kisses and her legs, her beautiful long legs spread, wrapped around him. She was wet and hot. His cock pressed thin, soaked cotton against her lips, fueling his need for friction. He wasn't going to make it inside. Her legs were wrapped too tight and he couldn't pull back far enough.

Needy, she trapped him tight into her, her legs a delicious cage. Her lips kissed and sucked at his jaw, his neck, his collar. She latched on to an ear and rocked against him, hard. Heat surged around his cock, overwhelming the head. He buried his hands in her hair and breathed her in,  body convulsing in climax as he came in between them.

"Yes," she whispered as his body stilled.

"I am sorry," he groaned.

"Why?" She asked in that perfect clipped tone. He didn't answer, instead he slid off her to rest at her side. He kissed slowly down the column of her neck, hand sliding up her stomach, pulling at her top to expose round, lush breasts. He pinched at her nipples, each in turn until they stood dark and erect.

He wanted to tell her she was beautiful, that he loved her, that he needed her. He wanted to say that she could not marry Rajan because he wanted her all to himself.

He looked into her eyes for a moment and lowered his head, taking a pert nipple into his mouth. He sucked gently at one breast, hand squeezing and teasing at the other. She responded with a low gasp of pleasure, arching her back into his caresses. He took his time teasing at her, first one side then the other, then between, hands and lips touching and lapping at her skin.

She moaned and wrapped her fingers in his hair. He slid his hand down to trace the curves of her body as he kissed his way back up to her lips, needing to drown in the taste of her. He pulled back to look down into her eyes, illuminated in a spill of moonlight. His hand slid to the wetness between her legs.

"Can I?” He asked. She looked at him confused, but she nodded.

And then he was in her, his hands, her hands, her pleasure his. He was in her bed, the Mumbai  heat caressing his body. He could feel her with him, feeling him within her. She watched him.

He took her hands and slid them down the flat of her belly, letting the tips of her fingers dip behind the hem of her panties. Pleasure coursed over him, more intense than his own orgasm. He was a live wire. Sharing was always more intense than visiting.

He felt her gasp with him as he dipped her fingers down to her opening. He slicked her hand with her wetness and drew the fingers up, parting lips to find her delicate nub. He pressed hard and dragged her slender fingers in slow circles. Shocks rocked him and her hips writhed. He could feel her moaning his name within her mind.

He slid her second hand down, the first still teasing at her clit. Two fingers penetrated, filling her. Her hips arched up meeting the press of her fingers. He curled her fingers inside her while pressing with the others on her clit. Wave after wave of pleasure slammed into her, into him.

He could feel a build, intense and overpowering. He pushed into her faster and circled his fingers harder.

"Kala," he whispered to her within her own mind and she came, back arching off the bed and legs curled up. She came and she came and unlike him she didn't come down right away. He kept rubbing for a moment more and she came again, slow shocks rocking through her.

Spent, her body fell back to land beside him on his bed in Berlin. She lay against  him, fingers teasing at the hairs of his nape, scratching over his beard and curling over his bare chest. He looked down, his body had come again while he was in her.

"Good dream for a naughty girl," she whispered, and then she was gone. Her body had fallen asleep across the world, and he was alone.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so gone on this show, this fandom, this ship. My first little foray here, hope you enjoy it.


End file.
